


Trashmouth Tozier's Terrible Trip Home

by MarionetteFtHJM



Series: The Alliteration Archives [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Bless Beverly Marhs honestly, First Kiss, Fix-It, I'm sorry Stan, Internalized Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Men need to learn how to communicate, Middle aged men miscommunication, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Canon Compliant, Period-Typical Homophobia, Rated M for My God Shut Up Richie, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier's Trashmouth, Richie was in a highschool band change my mind, Spoilers for Chapter 2, Swearing, because fuck a king plot, except for Stan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 14:09:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20761613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarionetteFtHJM/pseuds/MarionetteFtHJM
Summary: The Deadlights are meant to frighten, to scare to death, to hypnotise – to show him what’s going to happen. But Richie’s seen some shit – very recently, too. He’s seen what the Deadlight’s are showing him, more than once. His very own worst enemy, after all, is his own head; It can go and fuck an everything bagel because It’s got nothing on Richie’s fucked up brain.





	Trashmouth Tozier's Terrible Trip Home

**Author's Note:**

> Now, I know this is another in a long line of fix-it fics bit i decided to give it my own thoughts, headcanons, snl references for a fresh spin. There may be some offensive humour in there somewhere due to the nature of Richie's sense of humour but - all in all, i think i've kept it pretty tame.  
Honestly, i just wanted to see these losers happy so i took it upon myself to deliver. Hope you all enjoy!  
if you have any questions or thoughts, feel free to comment!

The Deadlights are meant to frighten, to _scare to death_, to hypnotise – to show him what’s going to happen. But Richie’s seen some shit – very recently, too. He’s seen what the Deadlight’s are showing him, more than once. He’s seen it a thousand times over in his worst nightmares and the Deadlights are even nicer to him than his own mind is – at least in the Deadlight’s he gets to tell Eddie how he feels, how he has felt for years (even the ones he doesn’t remember). His very own worst enemy is his own head; It can go and fuck an everything bagel because it’s got nothing on Richie’s fucked up brain.

Ever since he’s come back to butt-fuck Derry, he’s been plagued by these horrid dreams. He’d woken up in panic more times than he could count in the past few days – and _past few_ was generous but still he’s operating on barely any sleep. It’s become a norm at this point and that’s real fuckin’ sad. So when the Deadlights show him Eddie getting impaled by one of the fucker’s tentacle spikes, shows him Eddie dying leaned up against a rock with a _your mom_ joke on his lips and Richie responding with a garbled _I love you_ – he knows it’s not real.

Because Richie is a fucking _coward_ and he wouldn’t _do that_ to Eddie on his deathbed. It’s a stupid fucking trope, anyway. Overused and making no sense in the slightest. Who would want to hear that their best friend (previously forgotten) has been in love with them since childhood? _Nobody_, least of all straight-laced, hypochondriac Eddie Kaspbrak who’s probably happily married to a woman. So Richie Trashmouth Tozier would _never_ to that to Eddie,_ his Eds_, the only person he’s ever truly loved. Instead he’d give Eddie what he deserved; he would have laughed at his stupid joke and tried to fight for the Losers to get Eddie’s body out of that shithole.

So he knows it’s not real. And he knows that he has to do something or Eddie really _will_ die right in front of them all and they’ll be powerless to stop it.

It’s decided then and as soon as Eddie spears It through the mouth Richie snaps out of the trance. He doesn’t stop to think as Eddie celebrates, no time for that. He grabs the shorter man and pulls him close to his chest; he proceeds to fling them both to the side just as the tentacle strikes the ground where they stood.

“Holy shit!” Eddie exclaims above him and Richie is so fucking thankful he could _cry_. He’s probably going to – later, though, when there’s time. “Richie – Trashmouth, you saved my life, you fucker!”

“Thanks, Eds. Feeling real appreciated by your knee crushing my balls right now.” _Back to the same old humour-defence it is, then – _he thinks to himself bitterly as he puts on a higher tone of voice than strictly necessary for comedic effect. Always the entertainer. 

“Shit!” Eddie jumps up, spry and unharmed and without a gaping hole in his chest. The shorter offers him help up and Richie takes it despite not needing the support just to hold the other’s hand. _Pathetic._

“I didn’t kill it, Rich, I’m sorry. I thought I did but – and you were caught in the Deadlights and I was brave! I tried Rich, I-” The shorter takes a gulp of air and Richie can see him trying to reach for his inhaler that’s no longer there.

“Hey, hey. You don’t need that, Eds, come on. Breathe with me.” He takes the other’s smaller hands and places them on his own chest. He watches as Eddie concentrates on feeling the rise and fall of his chest.

“Your heart’s beating like crazy.” Eddie murmurs and Richie hopes that the other doesn’t feel the skip in said fast heartbeat.

“Well, we were running away from the damn clown and then I started thinking about your mom and I-”

A palm smacks his chest and Eddie groans, “Beep beep, Richie, damn it.”

“Come on, I know how to kill It.” He turns to look at where Mike and Bill are dodging tentacles just because he can’t stand looking at Eddie’s soulful eyes any longer.

“What? How?!” Eddie grips his wrist and refuses to let him rush head-first into the fray.

“Deadlights.” He shrugs and tugs out of the hold lest his poor heart give out before it’s his time.

He smiles at the shorter and hopes that it isn’t his _rigor mortis_ grin. “Hey! Hey, guys!” He yells, trying to get their attention but hoping that It’s too busy recuperating to spot him. The rest of the Losers notice him flailing because, how could they not? He’s tall and lanky and he tends to be loud so they rush to gather around him behind one of the sloping rocks out of sight.

“Did you, shit, Richie, the Deadlights?” Mike claps a hand onto his shoulder and he takes a deep breath. There’s no way he can explain any of this without admitting all of his worst fears and what he’s been seeing since they came here.

“Was it – _did we die?”_ Bev whispers and – _God bless her_, she’s giving him an easy way out without even knowing it, she always _was_ an angel.

“Yeah, ah. Yes but, Eds managed to save little ol’ me before anything bad could happen.” He croons and pinches Eddie’s uninjured cheek.

Eddie bats his hand away and grumbles. “Don’t call me that, shitstick.”

“Oh, right, and alongside the horrifying nightmare of Eddie’s mom giving me head in the back of a Uber, I saw how we defeat It.” He claps his hands together and winces when the sound echoes. The room is suddenly too silent and a thick shadow casts over them.

They all look up simultaneously and they see It’s grinning clown face above them. “_Hello, Kiddies!_” It sing-songs, one of its nasty yellow eyes drifting to the side.

“Uh, R-Rich, any time now.” Bill grinds out silently and he sighs.

“Look here, you sloppy bitch. I’m trying to talk to my friends so, do you mind waiting for a moment like the polite _transdimensional_ being that you are? We’ll be right with you, thanks, babe.” Richie fixes the glasses on his face – there’s a crack in the right lens, damn it.

It looks perplexed and backs off a little as the rest of the Losers stare at him in shock. But – but he’s not scared. He’s avoided the two things that scare him the most today and by all accounts, he’s having a _great_ fucking time.

“As I was saying.” He clears his throat, smiling pleasantly at everyone present – Eddie and Beverly are looking at him like he’s losing his mind. And maybe he is. But if that’s what it fucking takes then he’s as cracked as a rainbow-coloured egg on Easter morning.

“Eddie, you were attacked by It earlier, yeah? It was a leper or something. And you – you choked it out – which, talk about _kinky_ and wow what a lucky bastard that leper is – but my point is, I think it’s only as strong as the form it takes. So – we just gotta believe it’s weak or some shit and then we can gank it. Like Tinkerbelle or some other magical fuckery like that, I’m not even going to _question_ how this shit works but the ritual of c_hode_ or whatever works on the same principle except we complicated it to the point of disbelief!” He waves his hands around, knows he’s speaking frantically and basically in tongues but he needs to get the words out before It decides it’s been patient enough already. So he takes a wheezing breath in and looks at the others expectantly when he finishes his speech. 

The monster rears back, looking between each of the losers and then roars. “I am the destroyer of worlds!” It screams but Richie’s had enough of this fucking shit.

“No, fucker, you’re just a stupid fucking clown and we’ve had _enough!”_ He picks up a hefty rock from the ground, grins at Ben who’s trying to subtly inch in front of him and chucks it at the bastard’s head. “You’re a big fucking bully and the last time someone tried to bully the lot of us, they got stoned, bitch! And it wasn’t the fun kind!” He screams right back, his conviction rock-solid. This is how they defeat this space invader. This is how they all get out alive.

“Yeah!” To his surprise (_he shouldn’t be surprised)_, Eddie comes to stand beside him, chest puffed out and a sharp rock in his hands. “You’re a piece of shit clown!”

“A b-bastard!” Bill, Big Bill, the greatest friend to any of them even with his shortcomings, stands with them next.

“Abide by the law of the form, then.” Mike mumbles and he nods at each one of them. “Let’s do this.”

It’s chaos. It’s a lot of shouting, cursing and trash-talking – it’s like everyone’s taking a page from Richie’s book and it makes him so inexplicably proud that he might burst. Their bullying develops into a solid stream of _clown! Clown! Clown! Clown!_ And It deflates, becomes something unrecognizable and unidentifiable, feeble and weak.

And then Mike pulls Its damn heart out and Richie can only follow everyone’s lead as they start squeezing the literal life out of it.

“What now?” Ben asks as the black wisps start to ascend into the ether.

“Now we run.” Richie discards his jacket and rolls his sleeves up, time for a quick escape if they don’t want to die down here.

“We r-run?” Bill tilts his head.

“Yup, because in about two minutes this place is going to collapse and we’ll be deader than our deflated friend over there.” He tugs on Eddie’s shirt hem and the shorter follows him easily, probably shocked at what just happened.

“Well, you heard the man!” Bev hops off the weird spiky platform and follows the two of them like a true champ.

Overall, the atmosphere is much better than what he’d seen in the Deadlights. _No shit._ They’re not – they’re not sad. Mostly because Eddie’s not dead – well, for him that’s the main reason, the others will never know. And even as they dash through the tunnels and climb that rope out of the well, they’re laughing, _celebrating_.

Neibolt goes down into the sinkhole, completely gone by the time the ground’s done shaking. The dust settles and they stand there, stock still and _shivering with anticipation. _When nothing happens – _when nothing crawls out of the sinkhole – _for ten minutes, they decide to leave once and for all.

Battered and bruised, they walk the silent and empty streets of Derry. There’s supposed to be a fair happening, some carnival thing, but there’s no one out on the town. It’s like the whole city _died_ even though they know it’s not true. There’s definitely something _off_ but – it’s no longer their concern.

They go to the quarry and climb the new fence that separates them from their designated spot. They stand at the ledge, hesitant, until Beverly takes her shoes off and jumps, always head-first into danger.

They follow one by one until it’s only him and Eds left standing there.

He turns to look at the shorter man and feels his heart stuttering. He’s alive. Eddie’s alive and Richie is _still_ a damn coward. The cosmic joke in all of this, is Richie Tozier. 

_‘If we survive this, I’ll tell him’_ he’d said to himself before they went into the house. He’d been so sure that he’d die in that damn cave that he hadn’t really been worried about it. But now that they’re here, now that they’re alive and breathing, he’s backtracking faster than those clowns who let Trump run for president just because they thought it would be _funny_.

“This is still disgusting, how did we ever do this as kids?” Eddie sighs, hugging himself.

“Come on, Eddie Spaghetti, one last time for the win. This one time and you never have to see Derry again.” He carefully places a hand at the back of the other’s neck, giving a reassuring squeeze and then retreating before he makes it _weird._

“You not gonna miss it?” Big brown eyes look at him and he scoffs, grinning like a maniac.

“Gonna miss railing your mo-”

“Fuck off, Trashmouth!” Eddie pushes him and Richie yelps. It’s a split second decision that does it. Prank time – at possibly the wrong moment, really. He pretends to flail around for a few seconds and fake-slips. He can see the horror on Eddie’s face as he _flings _himself off the side of the quarry and into the water that’s as deep as Twitter these days.

“Richie!” Eddie yells and he lets himself fall, closing his eyes and letting the water embrace him.

Dangerous, so fucking dangerous, but he manages to angle himself so that he doesn’t shatter all of the bones in his body. He dives down into the murky water, holding his breath and counting the seconds that he’s down under.

Fifteen seconds after, he’s witnessing Eddie-_germaphobe_-Kaspbrak diving in after him and frantically paddling towards where he’s sunk to the bottom. His whole chest feels warm with affection, _with love_, as Eddie’s hands grab him and start dragging him to the surface.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Rich, I didn’t mean to shove you, shit!” Eddie pats his face and takes off his glasses.

Everything becomes blurry and he mourns the loss of the visage that is Eddie being worried over him. The hands cover his jaw and he’s faintly aware of the spitfire talking rapidly but he’s not taking any of it in. He pulls his hand out of the water and it weighs a thousand pounds as he slaps it across Eddie’s mouth.

“Mm-mph-mm!!” Eddie tries exclaiming something but Richie’s not having it.

“Stop – stoppity. You didn’t do anything, Spaghetti-O’s. I was pulling your leg.” He reassures the other with a pat on his cheek after he frees his mouth.

“You dickface!” Eddie smacks the water in front of himself and it gets into Richie’s eyes but he’s too busy laughing to care.

“You could have broken your neck, your back!” Eddie’s voice gets higher the more upset he is so that hasn’t changed over the years.

“_Lick my pu-”_

_“NO!” _Eddie charges forward, scandalized, and dunks him like it’s a baptism – silly Christians.

When he surfaces again he sees the other Losers looking at them with matching grins and it’s almost like the old days. “Eds, come on, I wanna see your beautiful face, gimmie my eyes back.” He reaches out with his hands and wiggles his fingers because he wants to see this in high definition. He wants to give them all a hug and gather them against himself and possibly never let go because they’re all alive.

“Uh,” Eddie stutters as Richie paddles over to where the water is shallower. “I may have dropped them.”

“Spaghetti! I need those to see! We can’t all have perfect – well – _everything _like you! Come on guys, help me look! Help me _see!_” He waves the others over and they share a quiet laugh as they all dive under.

He squints at them all and notices Ben and Beverly being all _icky_ together under water mere feet away from him. He sighs wistfully, wishing that he could have his very own _moment_ with Eddie but that’s not an option for him. Not even in the distant future. _Like they haven’t wasted enough years already._

Bill emerges from the water next to him with a splash, holding his glasses up like a prize. “Hey, Rich, h-here you g-go!”

“Billy boy you’re a life saver!” He croons sweetly and captures Bill’s face in his hands, kissing him on the cheek loudly as the others resurface. “Now I can finally see all of your beautiful GQ-worthy faces in high def. again.” 

“Stop, bitch, you’re cute!” Bev paddles over to him and strokes the hair off his forehead. “Wish you’d kept the curls, though. _Adorable_.”

“Yeah, cute in that way the Frankenstein’s monster is cute. _Aw, look at that big, dumb, square-headed guy! Ain’t he just the sweetest? _Last time I got laid she was a certified monster-fucker – no, really, she had a certificate from Tumblr and everything! Only problem is I had to do the Keith Morrison voice the whole time I-” He jokes, laughs easily now that they’re all gathered and trying to dunk him into the water to stop him from talking with scandalized exclamations of _beep beep, Richie_!

“Beep beep, Trashmouth, don’t be ridiculous.” Eddie, pushing Mike out of the way because apparently Eds doesn’t hate him enough to let him get drowned by the others, says with a gentle smile and Richie’s eyes well up with tears behind his glasses.

“In all seriousness, though. I’m happy. We did it, Losers, we did it.” He lets himself pull the shorter man into his chest and sure enough, the rest follow easily. The group hug is filled with stray elbows and soft giggles and Richie’s eyes just _won’t stop leaking_ but it’s perfect. It’s perfect because he’d seen what I could have been like if Eddie – _Game Ended. _He’d seen himself sitting in the sombre silence and wishing for the impossible, seen himself visiting the Kissing Bridge to re-carve the cheesy little _R+E_ while choking back tears. Well, he’s choking back tears now, too, but for a different reason altogether.

“Not to kill the mood or anything, but this water is filthy and the _stab wound_ on my cheek is going to get infected and then _I’ll fucking die_ if we don’t get out soon.” Eddie breathes rapidly into his chest as he tries, and fails, to pry himself away and get all the other Losers to back up.

“Alright, give the munchkin space, he’s claustrophobic.” He chuckles and then winces as Eddie pinches his side. He thinks about retaliation and right now, he’s feeling reckless enough to do the first thing that comes to his mind. So he frees his arms of Bev and Mike and nudges Bill away gently. He strikes fast, pressing his shoulder into Eddie’s stomach and picking him up with surprising ease. “You heard the man; we must vacate the cesspool at once!”

“Put me down! Put me down right now!!” Eddie wails and smacks his fists against his back uselessly. And Richie isn’t the strongest by any means, but right then and there, he feels like Schwarzenegger in his prime.

He puts on his best impression of Arny and stands up out of the water, still with Eddie on his shoulder. _“Small man must be protected, we’re going to keep him safe! Get to the shore!!_”

The Losers’ laughs follow him as he strongmans Eddie, _his Eds,_ onto a tall and flat rock on the shore. “_There you go, Mister Kaspbrak._ Now, I’d ask Mike for an _epic_ handshake like in the _Predator_ but his muscles are not nearly as impressive as mine so it wouldn’t be fair.” He finishes with his own voice and accent, clapping his hands together to get rid of imaginary dust. His legs feel like jelly and the pants he’s wearing weigh a ton but none of that is important because Eddie is smiling up at him brightly and god – _how could he have forgotten any of this? _ The chest ache, the exhilaration that he felt every time he made Eddie smile, the random urge to blush every time the other would show any sort of affection towards him. He is a grown man and this is fucking stupid.

But what can he do? This feeling’s been lost on him for 20-something years and now that he has it back, despite the hollowness in his stomach, he feels whole. It had all, quite literally, hit him in the chest the moment he stepped into that restaurant and saw Eddie standing there with Bill and Mike. Hit him as hard as the urge to be as annoying and as obnoxious as possible to garner attention, hit him as hard as he’d slammed that gong to accomplish just that. And now they’re here.

Despite the water, they’re all still grimy and as the giddiness subsides, Eddie starts looking absolutely disgusted with the situation – so that’s not new. “We need to get back to the Town House. I need a fucking shower. Or maybe five fucking showers.”

“Only if I get to join you, Eds.” He plops down next to the shorter man and knocks their shoulders together.

“If that’ll get us there sooner, I’ll fucking agree to anything.” Eddie sighs, leaning against him fully and Richie – well, he wishes the words didn’t hurt but it’s irrelevant now. What he feels is overshadowed by the fact that they’re all alive and still probably in shock.

“You g-guys, I need a drink.” Bill scrubs a hand through his grimy hair, grimacing as he pulls a piece of _something_ from his locks.

“Yeah, we should really head out.” Mike sighs, offering a hand to Bill and helping when Bev stumbles.

“Aw, Ben, why don’t you carry me out like that?! I thought you were a gentleman!” She whines dramatically and Richie remembers how much fun she really is, how _cool_ they all thought she was.

“Well, I don’t know if I’m as strong as Richie is. I might need a few more months in the gym to reach that level.” Ben, despite his words, dives in and picks Beverly up into a bridal carry and she burst out in delighted giggles.

“I don’t know how I could have forgotten you.” She whispers to him softly as they step onto the shore and wow, okay, Richie feels like a third wheel and there’s _six_ of them there.

“Think you can carry her back to town? None of us drove here, by the way. What an oversight.” He stands up and stretches, pulls Eddie up with him and pats his shoulders when the shorter stumbles into him. “It’s quite the trek back, _the night is long and full of terrors_ and we’re burning daylight!” He grabs one of Eddie’s arms and brings it to the crook of his elbow, ready to lead their expedition back to the Town House.

“Look at him go with that take-charge attitude, what an inspiration!” Mike cheers happily, fist pumping in the air and Billy giggles almost timidly drawing Richie’s eyes to him.

Big Bill seems to be a little shocked now that Richie is looking at him properly. And while him and Eddie faced the three – _god, he gets it now, the _closet_; real funny, you dead fucker –_ doors of fear, Bill must have gone through something scarier and by himself, no less. He reaches out and tucks Bill under his free arm, letting the shorter lean against him. Sometimes it paid to be the taller one.

“I’ve got my favourite guys here so if y’all are ready to head out,” He nods his head in the direction of the well-worn path a little off the shore that they all know well.

Beverly tucks herself closer to Ben, looking tired and tame now that the adrenaline is starting to wear off. Richie can only imagine the come-down that they’ll all be experiencing once it hits them. Mike takes charge, herding them all up the side of the quarry and onto the main road where they have to avoid a couple of cars and drivers looking concerned. They should have stuck to the trees.

The trek back is uneventful and mostly quiet. Richie only allows himself to glimpse at _that one spot _on the Kissing Bridge as they cross it. And Derry is by no means a big town but they’re dead on their feet by the time they finally get to the Town House.

Eddie disentangles himself from Richie’s hold as soon as they burst through the doors of the House. He’s surprised that the smaller man had let himself be guided and held for as long as he has but Eds probably didn’t have the energy to argue his freedom during their little hike. The shorter man hightails it up the stairs before anyone can say anything and Richie sighs to himself.

He chuckles and steers Bill towards the well-stocked bar for the shorter’s awaited drink. “I know we all stink like toxic waste but _we are still absolutely parched! Beverly, would you be a dear?_”

“It would be my honour, Master Richard!” She wiggles out of Ben’s hold, landing in an exaggerated bow, and jumps over the counter even though she could have just as easily walked around. It seems she still has an endless source of energy just as he remembers.

He sits Bill onto the stool at the bar and they watch as Beverly expertly mixes up something that consists of three different brightly coloured liquids. It’s fascinating watching her work. Her hands ate lithe and quick and the alcohol doesn’t splash all over the place like when Richie tries to do it. She looks like she’s in her element and her movements seem to be calming Bill down, too, as an added bonus.

“I’m not gonna ask if you’re okay, but like – you can talk to us, man.” Mike approaches them all gingerly, rubbing at his elbow where he must have a nasty bruise from one of the many sharp edges he’d gotten slammed against. “Not that any of us are okay but – you know.”

Bill stutters out a laugh, shaky and a little garbled. “No, no. For the first time since coming back to Derry, I m-might b-be okay. We’ve all seen a lot of shit today and – and in a weird way, it h-helped me. I confronted my fear and we finally k-killed It. I’m – I’m glad everyone’s o-okay.” His big eyes are shiny with tears and Richie feels like a giant fucking _coward_. And he should. Here Bill is, the one that had the most to lose and the one that came out on top in the end. Lord only knows what Bill’s worst fear was – certainly much worse objectively when compared to Richie’s. And he still isn’t going to do it. He’s not going to say anything and he’s not going to acknowledge any of the facts present.

Beverly slides him his drink, something fruity and colourful by the looks of it. He sniffs at the glass and it smells like cherries and a strong percentage of alcohol. He’ll probably stop at one, lest he do something fucking idiotic drunk.

“When, ah, when – fuck, I don’t know. Are we supposed to just head out now, like nothing happened?” Ben, leaning against the bar heavily, asks. “And does anyone work at this place??”

His prolonged whine gets a round of laughs from all of them and Richie takes a sip of his drink. It tastes – really good, he’s not going to lie. He’s about to take a bigger gulp when Eddie comes barrelling down the stairs – hair wet and curling around the edges of his forehead, hands shaking only slightly – and goes straight for Richie’s drink, downing half of it in one go.

“Whoa, there, Eds!” He beams, delighted at the sight. “Aren’t you worried about the diseases I might be carrying?! What if I have –_ cooties?!”_ He jeers, pleased to have earned a middle finger from the shorter man.

“I just washed God knows what out of parts of my body that I’d rather not mention. Don’t even fucking try me, Trashmouth.” Eddie threatens, brandishing the glass as if it were his weapon of choice.

Richie grins, unbearably fond to the point where all the other emotions fade in comparison. “You should’a taken me up on the offer, Spaghetti, I could have scrubbed your back for you. Can’t imagine your tiny little T-Rex arms can reach far.”

“I _am_ going to fight you, Richie, shut the fuck up.” Eddie growls and Richie bites back another pleased groan. Getting under the other’s skin was always a treat.

“Enough you two, come on, let’s toast and then hit the hay because I feel like I’m gonna fuckin’ collapse.” Bev demands, slamming shot glasses onto the table and pouring something probably vile into them.

Nobody argues with her and they accept their shots respectfully.

“Well. We’ve come a long way.” She starts, tucking a strand of amber hair behind her ear. “We’ve done the impossible with the power of fucking _friendship._ So, I guess I’ll toast to that. To friendship.” She finishes with a nod of her head.

“To us here and to those we l-lost.” Bill says solemnly.

“To being alive.” Mike adds, raising his shot glass in preparation.

“To the promise we made.” Eddie pipes up, thumbing at his palm where the scar used to be before picking up his glass.

“To teamwork.” Ben, one arm around Bev’s shoulders, looks to him for the final word.

“To – fuck, guys, you took all the best ones.” He whines dramatically and Eddie elbows him in the ribs playfully. “To – to sticking together, keeping in touch and _not forgetting_ this damn time.” He decides that now, after everything, remembering is most important.

They clink their glasses together and Richie absolutely hates the way whatever was in the shot goes down his throat, scorching as it flows. He grimaces and shakes his head. “Straight-up poison. If I die now, I’m coming back to haunt you.” He points a finger at Beverly and she snorts, smacking his hand out of the air.

“And I’ll gladly hire a priest to get rid of you.” She shoots back and Richie smiles, just like old times.

“What are – what are you all going to do now?” Eddie’s voice cuts through the atmosphere like a hot knife through butter and everyone falls silent. “Are we all just going back to our lives like nothing’s changed?”

It hurts Richie to have to look at him being like this. He’s basically collapsed in on himself. His sad eyes are even sadder and his hands are fiddling nervously with the empty shot glass. He looks like a drowned Chihuahua, shivering violently in his spot.

Richie gulps down the words of reassurance that want to escape him because they’re lies. They’re not reliable and he can’t guarantee that they’ll all keep in touch even if they do remember so he keeps his mouth shut for once. He does, however, pull the shorter man into his side gently, enjoying the way Eddie folds himself into the needed shape.

“I – I’m not.” Beverly speaks up first. “My – hah, that piece of shit at _home._ I’m getting a divorce as soon as I can and I’m taking as much of his money as I can.” She decides bravely, looking up at Ben with love in her eyes.

_God,_ he hopes _he_ doesn’t look at Eddie like that – it’s a dead giveaway.

“I have a movie to finish and I’ll – I love Audra. I need to make more of an effort, she deserves the best.” Bill says shyly and Beverly coos at him.

“You gonna get out of town?” Ben asks Mike. Mike who had gathered them here again after so many years. Mike who had done what he needed to do – _stayed behind_ _in this shithole –_ when nobody else would have. And he doesn’t remember much from their last years of highschool but he does know that none of them were happy that Mike was staying. But if he hadn’t stayed then – well, a whole other world of trouble. Maybe, maybe not. Maybe he would have continued to live obliviously and miserably for the rest of his life and maybe It would have migrated from Derry to a bigger town. Who knows?

“Yeah. I think it’s finally time for me to pack up.” Mike smiles gratefully at all of them and no, they should be thanking him instead.

“You’re always welcome to stay with any of us, you know that, right?” Bill offers with a grin and Mike nods.

“I might go state hopping and visit each of you at some point until I find a place to settle down. That seems like a decent plan.”

“You’re gonna love L.A. Baby,” He pats the broad-shouldered man on the back with an easy smile. He’d love to have them all in his beach house at some point, maybe get them to vacation there, but at the moment – he’ll take Mike in if the other needs it.

“Looking forward to it, Rich.” Mike laughs and yeah, he’s gonna miss all of them once they leave.

“I – well, I have a job that needs doing so I guess I’ll go back to architecture but – you know. Hopefully with a _plus one_ to bring to all the fancy dinners with me this time.” Ben nudges his nose against the crown of Bev’s head and a chorus of groans erupts out of them all.

“Disgusting. You’re too cute, it’s toxic to us single people. Time to cancel you.” He demands with frantic hand waving.

“Please stay off Twitter, Rich!” Beverly wails in dismay and just like that the pressure in the air lifts, making it easier for them to breathe. “You gonna go back to being a mediocre comedian again?”

“Yup.” He pops the ‘p’. “Gonna try writing my own shit again; feel everything out. I went on this crazy trip recently and I think emotional trauma fuels comedians real well.” He pushes away from the bar as the Losers start chatting about various things and about how tired they are. Nobody notices Eddie hasn’t said anything. Well, nobody except for Richie but Richie’s always been too aware of everything Eddie’s said and done ever.

So he looks down to the shorter man who’s staring up at him already. “You okay?”

Eddie nods but he doesn’t look so sure. “I’m – I have a flight back to New York in two days. I guess I’m just scared that we’ll forget again.”

“How about I stay here for _three_ days and I’ll text you on the third day and you see if you remember. How’s that sound, Spaghetti?” He aims it as a joke but it sounds too much like a sincere offer for it to pass as something offhanded. Which, it turns out, is good because Eddie’s face splits open in a genuine smile.

“Yeah? Thanks, Rich, you’re the best.” The shorter hugs him firmly before peeling himself off.

He watches as Eddie once again ambles up the stairs, dragging his feet and yawning as he goes. He sighs, runs a hand through his hair and promptly remembers he’s still gross and needs a shower. Ugh.

“Rich,” Beverly whispers next to his ear and he startles.

“Shit, Bevs, don’t do that!” He groans out, equally silent because there must be a reason why she’s whispering.

“Sorry,” She doesn’t look sorry. “I just – will he be okay?” Her eyes move to where Eddie’s just disappearing upstairs.

He doesn’t know. He can’t say for sure but he does think that Eddie will get over whatever’s bothering him now. It’s – what happened today was a lot and Eddie got stabbed in the cheek and he needs time to process things. He’s always been more analytical about everything than any of them, his mind’s always worked differently. But Eddie’s strong, and he’s brave and he’s so pigheaded sometimes that Richie doesn’t know how they haven’t killed each other yet.

“Yeah, he’ll – he needs time. But if he needs a shoulder to cry on or a hand here and there, well. We’ll all be there for him. Me, as his appointed best friend, first and then all of you other losers.” He winks at Beverly to cover up the word vomit of ‘_I’ll make sure he’s okay, and if not then I’ll physically drag him out to Cali and love him until he is’ _that threatens to erupt out of him like black bile out of a killer clown.

Beverly raises an impeccably plucked eyebrow at him, her expression doubtful and suspicious. “Rich – you know it’s okay if-”

_Fuck, shit, son of a bitch, there goes Beverly trying to be Hitch. _

He squints back at her almost accusingly and she shuts up mid-sentence. _That’s what I thought._ They stare at each other in silence for a few moments before she decides to back off.

Bev raises her hands into the air and does a little wave like she’s giving up on him. “Fine.” She says and then turns back to Ben, patting him on the arm to get his attention. “Shower time.”

“Gross!” Mike groans as Ben perks up and his cheeks get red.

_Bullet dodged. _

Funny how everyone’s come out of this whole thing a better person having defeated their fears and worst nightmares and Richie’s just – he’s stayed the same. The same scared kid carving _R+E_ into the Kissing Bridge, the same terrified teenager watching Eddie get hit on by various classmates, the same guy that’s been in love with his best friend for almost thirty years and has been scared to say anything.

_Funny_.

“I’m gonna pass out.” He decides, warm from the alcohol and tired and aching all over.

“Don’t be disgusting, take a shower first.” Bill flicks him on the ear and he whines.

Bill’s got a point, of course, but at this point if a staph infection is going to kill him then he’ll, as the kids say, take the _L_.

* * *

He takes a shower and only because the little voice in the back of his head sounds too much like Eddie to ignore. He scrubs himself raw and winces when the scalding water makes his _everything_ sting. He shampoos his hair four times and spends a good ten minutes trying not to hyperventilate himself into unconsciousness. Overall, he’s dead on his feet as soon as he steps out of the shower and he can’t wait to faceplant into the soft bedding.

And he does just that. His face meets the pillow and he groans loud enough that whoever’s in the room next to him probably hears. It’s heaven for his aching body, for his old and brittle bones. He feels like he’s aged another ten years in the span of however long’s it been since he came back to Derry. Probably only three or so days but it feels like _years_.

He rolls onto his back and stares at the ornate ceiling – it’s blurry because he doesn’t have the glasses on, but it still looks nice in the moonlight streaming in through the window. He feels drained and tired but his eyes refuse to shut. He’s afraid, he realizes, scared that if he falls asleep he’ll see _It_ again. That he’ll see Eddie dying or worse – that he’ll wake up and he’ll be back in that cave and Eddie will have been dying on top of him for god knows how long while he’s been lost to the Deadlights. He looks at his phone and balks, thinking about how his last show bombed because he’d been too busy having violent flashbacks to the fact that he is, in fact, gay and in love with his then-best friend. Well, all things considered, at least those two things are a constant. Though, he supposes he’d consider himself _bi_ instead since he’s been with women – he’s just never loved any of them. And, wow, that makes sense now, too. His heart’s always belonged to Eddie, his Eds. Fuckin’ gross. Pull it together, Richie.

He’s about to try and close his eyes when a light tap on the door startles him. He looks to his left where the door is and gulps. He looks down at himself and sighs. He quickly shuffles over to where his one, small suitcase is and picks up a ratty old shirt to cover up with. The light tapping comes again and this time he heads straight for the door, turning the lights on as he reaches the switch.

He opens the door and almost gets barrelled over as Eddie rushes inside, making a beeline for the bed and sitting down at the edge heavily. He watches as the shorter’s hands shake, gripping the rumpled sheets.

“Eddie? You okay, buddy?” He closes the door and approaches the frantic-looking man slowly.

“No! I’m not fucking okay, Richie!” Eddie hisses out, probably deciding that screaming would wake everyone else in the house.

“Shit, Eds, calm down, talk to me.” He hurriedly drops down next to him and takes one of his hands between his own.

“I – I almost died, Richie! _You_ almost died! We all did! And I got fucking stabbed! By Henry Stinkin’ Bowers! And I stabbed him back! I called his mullet stupid! We – we killed it, Rich, what the fuck has today been?!” Eddie frantically grinds out, waving their joined hands through the air as he speaks. “Am I supposed to just go back to New York?! I – Myra – she doesn’t know. And she’ll never know. And I’m supposed to live my life not talking about it and jumping every time I see a fucking clown.”

“Hey – hey.” He smacks his free hand against Eddie’s uninjured cheek to get his attention. “Shut up for a second, will ya?” He waits for Eddie’s breathing to calm down before he continues, his own heart in his throat. “We’ll be there. Only a phone call away. We’ll exchange numbers tomorrow and you can text me or any of the others whenever you wanna talk. You won’t forget and I said I’ll call you on day three and I’ll call you on day four, five, _six. _I’ll call you every day for a month if that’s what you need.” And okay, Richie is _real close_ to putting his stupid foot in his mouth and he knows it so he has to tread carefully.

“Why? Why would you do that? You barely know me; you’ve _forgotten me_ for a whole of 20 plus years, Rich. Why – _why?!”_ Eddie tries to tug his hand away and Richie refuses to let him go.

_Because I love you,_ is what Richie would have said if he weren’t a coward. But he is. So he doesn’t say it.

“Because you’re my best friend, Eds, even if I don’t remember everything. I remember _now_ and you and the guys, you’re important to me. So I won’t forget. I missed you, every day in my life, even when I didn’t know you.” He speaks for the plural, and it’s true, but he’s missed Eddie so much more viscerally than the others.

“We’re in this together. We’re done with the actual _thing_ now but that doesn’t mean that we have to go our separate ways. Thank god we have the internet and despite what they’ll have you believe, it’s not only for porn.” He chokes on the air that tries to enter his lungs as his eyes water and his nose becomes stuffy. He tries to laugh but it cuts off before it even starts because Eddie’s throwing himself at Richie in a hug. Suddenly, Richie is very conscious of the fact that he’s wearing only his boxers and a flimsy shirt. But – he digresses.

“Thank you, Rich.” Eddie whispers into the skin of his neck and Richie shivers, hands wrapping around the crying man’s back.

“Any time, Eds,” He hushes back, for once not coming up with a joke to lighten the situation. “I know I’m the Trashmouth, but – if you need anything, and I do mean anything, don’t hesitate to call. If you need to, I’ll even let you crash in the guest room.”

“I’ve never been to LA,” Richie mumbles, shoulders dropping and breaths evening. Richie just pats his back, for once lets his touch linger and turns the pats into a gentle rubbing motion.

“You’re gonna hate it, it’s terrible and crowded and dirty.” He chuckles and the other’s shoulders lift in a silent laugh. Another deep sigh leaves the shorter man and Richie hums. “Tired?”

“Yeah,” Eddie confirms and really, he’s practically asleep already, barely clinging onto Richie’s torso to keep himself from draping himself over his lap.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.” He nudges the brunette away.

“No,” Eddie grumbles. “Can’t – I couldn’t fall asleep. I started thinking and I started panicking and now I’m here.”

“Well, I mean. I guess we’re a little too big for sleepovers but I suppose I can make an exception for my favourite Loser.” He smiles through the sudden panic that grips him – _thank fucking god he’s not a teenager anymore._

“Don’t let Bev hear you say that.” Eddie smiles up at him And Richie lets him lay down under the blankets.

He shuffles away from the bed and puts on a pair of sweats before turning the lights off. This is – this is normal. He’s just helping a friend fall asleep, keeping the nightmares away. He lies down, a little rigid and unprepared for Eddie turning to face him. His eyes are – well, a little magical and Richie is so damn gay for him he’s farting rainbows.

“Thanks,” Eddie yawns on the word and Richie’s chest constricts like he’s been stabbed.

“No worries Eddie Spaghetti, we Losers gotta look out for each other, yeah?” He’s too old to be saying shit like that. But when the last 20 years of his life suddenly feel fake, he’s allowed to be a little childish. Because his friends are here, his childhood is here, and his first crush is sleeping in the same bed as him. Knowing himself, he’s not worried about moving around during the night because he sleeps like a log but from what he knows, back then, Eddie was a clinger. He used to wake up with Eddie holding one of his arms hostage and it used to make him blush like crazy.

“Richie?” Eddie speaks up again and he prays to anyone listening that the other doesn’t ask questions about what happened that day.

“Hm?”

“Talk to me?” Eddie’s voice is so quiet that Richie almost misses the words entirely.

He swallows dryly, blinking back up to avoid the other’s intense gaze. “What do you want to hear about, Eds?”

“Anything. Everything. How’d you become a famous with your shitty voices?” Eddie chuckles softly and Richie nods to himself. He can talk, he can probably bore Eddie into unconsciousness.

So he talks. He tells Eddie about his most prized possession – his beach house with a stunning view and a good mile of beach that was only his to frolic about. He tells him about the shows he does, the Netflix special he has lined up. He tells him about how he flunked out of college to chase his dream and had to live in a shoebox apartment above the diner he worked in for years until he got a gig at a Comedy Club B room. How he was picked up to work as a writer on a show before he got his own segment and then branched out. He talks about anything that comes to his mind. From his favourite movies, colleagues to work with, music he likes to the fact that he hates warm salad and can’t wear contacts because they make his eyes water uncontrollably.

Eventually, Eddie’s breathing evens out and Richie notices that the other’s fallen asleep. He shuts his trap with a click and relaxes into the soft mattress.

“Night, Eds.” He murmurs before giving in to the urge to close his eyes.

* * *

The two of them end up eating cereal alone together in the Town House’s kitchen because Bev and Ben have gone out for breakfast – well, lunch, (or is it an early dinner since it’s 4 in the afternoon?) – already, Mike’s back at the library to pack and Bill is who knows where at this point.

He’s observing as Eddie pushes the Frosted Flakes around his bowl with slow movements and thinks about how he’d woken up to the shorter, predictably, plastered to his side. He’d shaken off the, surprisingly firm, grip the other had on him hastily and escaped to the bathroom. He’d spent a couple of minutes staring at his weathered face, the lines on his forehead and the laugh-lines on his cheeks. God, he was old. He _felt_ ancient. And he’d been through _too much_ so he has every right to feel like a relic.

“Hey,” He nudges the other’s foot with his own and Eddie startles out of his daze.

“What?!” He’s irritated and Richie can imagine why. Though, it’s probably the pain and the fact that he’d willingly slept in Richie’s bed germs.

“How’d you know I don’t write my own jokes? You been watching my shows, babe?” He smiles teasingly even though he knows Eddie’s not up to it this morning – or, ever, really, but usually it’s fun anyway.

The other stops chewing, eyes looking startled before his eyebrows furrow down again. “I – I don’t know. I might have seen some of the specials on TV? I don’t really remember everything but at the restaurant – I remembered a bit about a testing facility and it struck me like something you’d never talk about.”

“Yeah, not one of my best bits.” He shakes his head, the writers had their hearts in the right place but – it just wasn’t what they were looking for. “Jess and Brian tried their best and it got some laughs but – it’s not the same, you’re right.”

“I remember the Californians, that one was good.” Eddie hums, smiling a little and continuing with his chewing.

He snorts, remembering the bit as well. What a pain that had been to get through without bursting out in laughter. “That – that’s one of the earliest pieces of comedy I’d written. Glad you liked it.”

“What can I say; I’m a fan of the classic Trashmouth-Tozier style.” Eddie knocks their feet together and Richie has an outer-body experience where he sees them, the two of them, sitting on a bench with one of Eddie’s skinny legs thrown over Richie’s thigh as they watch Bev and Ben dance to some song that Bill’s playing on the guitar. He wonders if Bill still plays the guitar.

“Huh.” He grunts, leaning back in the chair.

“You okay? You’ve been zoned out for a while.” Eddie flicks a stray flake at him and he – well, pathetic, he’s pathetic. Because his heart’s beating fast again and there’s an awful fist clenching around his stomach and he really just wants to take Eddie’s face in his hands and kiss him senseless. And Eds look like a right mess with his hair uncombed and his stubble growing evenly over his cheeks – who would have thought that baby-faced Eddie Kaspbrak would be able to grow facial hair?

“No, yeah. Just remembered something that happened. D’you think Bill can still play the guitar?” He asks idly, hoping he doesn’t sound as choked up as he feels.

“I dunno, can you?” Eddie shoots back with a perplexed look and Richie has to pause.

“Shit? What? Do you think I can? I don’t remember being able to play.” But then again, Bill had forgotten he had a stutter, he’d forgotten his dead baby brother and Ben had (mostly) forgotten Beverly. So... stranger things have happened.

“Weren’t you all about that _band life_ in highschool?” Eddie grimaces like the cereal tastes rotten. “You and those two, what were their names even?”

He blinks as his vision blurs and then re-focuses. “Seth and Peter.” He responds as the names float up to his conscious mind from the depths. He remembers. He remembers practices and gigs around town, he remembers everyone loving them and him suddenly becoming too good for the Losers. He remembers being bitter because Eddie had started dating some girl from a nice family with a list of allergies a mile long and deciding that he needed to move on. He remembers that’s when it all started falling apart. Senior year was, unsurprisingly, not fun. He also remembers his second ever crush, his first kiss and his first hook-up being Seth who played the drums. Well.

“You – Rich, you just got real pale. What happened, where’d I take you?”

_Oh, good lord._

“No, I’m fine. It’s fine.” He clears his throat and hastily slurps up his frosted milk. “Just – highschool was weird. I’m better off not remembering, honestly.”

“Sorry,” Eddie sniffs and looks away.

And Richie has to sigh because of course Eddie would blame himself for something dumb like this. Time to stop being a party-pooper, Tozier. He stands up and goes over to get Eddie’s bowl since he hasn’t touched it in a while. “How about, since everyone’s out, you and me go see a movie down at the Aladdin. Then we can text them and meet up for dinner later, how’s that sound?”

“Think they’re still showing movies there?” Eddie leans onto the table heavily, making the wood creak.

“Eh, sure they do. Maybe not good ones but, whatever’s in right now.” He shrugs, dumps the bowls into the sink, washing them out halfway before giving up pretence that he’s actually going to clean them properly.

“Sure. Yeah. Nothing scary, though, fucker.” Eddie wags a finger at him and Richie blows him a teasing kiss because he’s _Richie_ and it’s _what he does._

“Don’t need any horror when I can look at your frowning face.” He shoots back and Eddie splutters. “Oh, who am I kidding?! You’re still the cutest, Spaghetti!” He croons because he likes putting his foot in his mouth like that. But it’s either bad jokes or love confessions so the first option seems somewhat safer.

“Fuck off, bro.” Eddie grunts and shoves away from the table.

“That’s another thing! Since when do you say _‘bro’?_ That’s super fucking douche-y and this is coming from _me!_” He dodges the kick to the shin that Eddie aims at him, cackles as the shorter’s frown deepens.

“I’m gonna kill you one of these days, you fucker!” Eddie threatens and Richie finds himself thinking, morbidly, that that would be a better option than dying here in Derry at the hands of Pennywise.

“You’d miss me too much, Eds.” He settles on saying and hopes that it doesn’t come off as too fond.

“Don’t call me that, assface!” Eddie grunts and heads for the stairs. “Go check what’s playing while I change, make yourself fucking useful.”

“Rude!” He cries out, clutching at his chest dramatically.

He opens up the cinema’s old-looking but simple homepage and searches for their _weekly showings_ lists. It takes him a moment until he finds it so he keeps it open as he waits for Eddie to return.

“What’s the damage?” The shorter asks once he’s back down, wearing a regular shirt with some jeans and for once, not looking like he’s a middle aged dad in a 90’s sitcom.

“Well we have a nice variety of three movies to choose from. Contender number one is _Hacksaw Ridge_, contender number two is _The Accountant_ and my personal pick of the day: contender number three _Nice Guys_. There’s of course a showing of _Moonlight _and _La La Land_ tomorrow but I was never one for the Oscars.” He lists off in his best announcer voice, waving his hand around like he’s holding cue cards.

“All of those sound terrible but I guess we could watch _Nice Guys,_” Eddie sighs thumbing at his phone.

Richie sees him pause as the screen lights up; sees him pause _very _deliberately and then turn off the phone, putting it away with a grimace. He wants to ask, wants to prod but he knows Eddie won’t respond positively if he does now.

“Not a fan of our good pal Quentin but, it’ll do. At least we’ll be distracted for two and a half days – why is this movie so long,_ oh my God._”He groans at Tarantino’s infamous movie runtime – every single movie, every single time, _goddamn_.

“Well, go change and then we can head out in your stupid flashy car.” Eddie throws out a hand dismissively and Richie grunts.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing _now?”_ He motions to himself, his humble combo of shirt and jeans.

“You’re wearing a Hawaiian shirt over a tee that says _Raid Area 51 _on it. Where do I begin?” Eddie crosses his arms over his chest and Richie has to force his eyes away from his surprisingly fit biceps.

“What? It’s part of who I am! I always wear shit like this; the fans have a Tumblr blog dedicated to my poor wardrobe! Imagine if they’d see me in a suit or a simple button up, they’d all lose it and pronounce me criminally insane!” He protests, refusing to budge on the issue. He hasn’t given in to his fans so far and nor will he give in to Eddie’s demands. Probably.

Eddie eyes him up and down speculatively and pauses at his shoulders, something clouding over his face before his cheeks go a bit pinker than they were before. The shorter clears his throat and puts his hands on his hips, probably preparing to argue his point.

“Well, not that I doubt you’d look like shit in a suit, all I’m saying is that you could dress like _an adult_ once in a while. Also, that’s not true. Senior year you went full grunge and we couldn’t pry the flannels off your lanky frame.” Eddie moves to pass him and smacks his chest with the back of his hand. “Go borrow one of Ben’s Henleys or something.”

“They’ll be too big on me.” He says in a last-ditch attempt at protesting.

“All your shirts are too big for you, anyway. Besides, you’ve got wide shoulders, you’ll deal.” Eddie says offhandedly but Richie, to his mortification, feels his cheeks grow warm. Eddie’s noticed he has wide shoulders? Revolutionary. (Pathetic).

“I refuse.” He puts his foot down, metaphorically because actually stomping his foot like a toddler would be _childish_.

“No regular shirt, no movie. _Or no_, I’ll go find Bev and Ben and go with them.” Eddie threatens, kicking the feet from under Richie – metaphorically, of course, but it almost feels physical.

“God, you’re such a bitch. Feels like I’m back with your mom, Eds.” He rolls his eyes behind his glasses and dodges the hand that goes flying in his direction.

“Don’t call me that and shut the fuck up, you backwater gremlin!” Eddie yells and Richie’s insides flutter disgustingly. “And I’m _not _like _her.”_ The last part is hissed and somewhat more serious so Richie gives it a rest.

“I’ll wear the Henley but the Hawaiian shirt stays. It’s not even Hawaiian, it’s got little tiny birds on it. It’s _cute.”_ He continues to mumble all the way upstairs and into Ben’s room where he witnesses the bed being an absolute catastrophe and promptly pieces together things that he should _not_ be thinking about.

* * *

The movie is absolute garbage, way too long, and he doesn’t even really like Ryan Gosling even though he’s met the guy and he was like the sweetest person ever. The movie’s got plot, sure, but it’s also got unnecessary scenes that don’t make any sense, bad dialogue and probably something foot fetish-related that he’d missed. But it was worth it.

It was worth it because he went to see it with Eddie and Eddie had gotten tired halfway through it and leaned against him and Richie had to calm his heart down lest it beat out of his chest. It was worth it because they were the only two people in the room and he could make as many shitty jokes and remarks as he wanted to and he could try and get Eddie to laugh at them hysterically – which he did, several times. It felt almost like a date, if he were being honest. And now he was here, in the only sort-of-fancy restaurant that Derry has to offer, eating Italian food and trying to argue pineapple pizza with Eddie.

“I thought you didn’t even _like _pineapple on pizza!” He throws his hands up, a little tired of the argument but also living for the way Eddie’s eyes dance with fire as he tries to prove his point.

“I don’t. I just don’t think that we should _crucify_ people that do!” Eddie shoots back, angrily stabbing at his _Caprese Chicken _and launching a bit of it out of the plate and onto the table_._

“You just love arguing with me, don’t you?” He says smugly, a grin on his face – he asks but, really, he knows it’s true. Eddie’s always been up for a battle of wits, ever since they were kids. It was who they were, who they are. They’d always fight and bicker and the rest of the Losers would go _‘oh, Richie, oh, Eddie, you’re so silly!_

_“No!”_ Eddie hisses but his eyes are smiling. He’s always fascinated Richie like that. How his face could make two different expressions at the same time while his mouth spouts something else unrelated entirely. Beautiful.

“It’s just that – if you weren’t _wrong_ so often, I wouldn’t have to constantly be arguing with you.” The words come out proudly and the shorter takes a sip of his wine, seemingly done with the conversation.

But Richie’s always been a bit of a _button pusher_ or a _switch flipper,_ even a _lever puller _(that one sounds gay). So Richie will do what Richie does best and poke and prod until he’s putting his own foot so far down his throat that it’s crowning out his ass.

“You like it. You _enjoy _it.” He grins, popping a piece of sausage into his mouth. “Your life’s been boring without me, Eds, admit it. No one to argue with, no one to challenge or no one to challenge you? Dreadfully drab. I bring the spice you lack, you bland chicken breast.”

Eddie’s face goes through another interesting cocktail of emotions, ranging from indignant and red in the face to confused and then becoming carefully blank. And then, out of all the things, he looks _bashful_ again. “Fuck off, Rich, I’m not boring.” Eddie grumbles, swiftly shoving chicken into his mouth.

“You’re a _risk analyst._ Talk about being _anal_ with things! I bet you have your little 9 to 5 job in a white-walled cubicle between two other equally as plain employees that would rather be anywhere else than at their desks. You go there, day in and day out and do your little number crunching job, assess the risks, get paid monthly and well, and you think you’re living the life. Eddie, we grew up here, in Derry. We fought a_ demon clown or whatever the fuck_ at the age of thirteen. I know you never wanted a stable office job.” The speech comes out a little more heartfelt than he’d originally intended. Sure, he’d meant to poke fun at Eddie’s white-picket-fence of a life but he – well, he’d gotten ahead of himself and dug deeper than he’d originally planned.

“You don’t know me, Richie, I’m not the same person I was back here.” Eddie says decisively but his eyebrows are lowered and his shoulders are drawing inward like he’s not certain about his words.

“Aren’t you? Sure, we’ve all changed but as soon as we hit the borders of Derry, we all hit a hard reset, too. It was pieces falling into half-empty husks. Maybe this is who we really are after all. It makes sense. Take away the trauma and who are we? Different people entirely. But now with our memories coming back, it’s a different ballpark altogether.” He rushes out, feeling oddly inspired and like he’s having another one of his epiphanies that are usually reserved for the witching hour.

“That was beautiful, Richie. Did you have someone _ghost-write_ it for you?” Eddie sneers meanly but Richie just rolls his eyes.

“I’ll prove it to you. Here,” He takes out his phone and slides it over to Eddie, knowing he’d left his own back at the Town house. “Call your wife right now and tell her you love her.”

“What?!” Eddie startles, knocking a knee against the leg of the table and rattling the whole thing. “What does that have anything to do with this?”

“_That?_ I thought your wife was a _she?_” He bites his tongue at the outraged expression on Eddie’s face. “Come on, do it. You married her, right? That must have meant something. Surely you, the Eddie Kaspbrak I’ve known since childhood, would marry out of love. Come on, _Lover_, give her a call.” And _great_, now he sounds _bitter_.

He needs to get himself under control, he needs to pull the breaks and rein himself back in, cover his tracks with humour. But, good lord, it hurts. It hurts sitting here across from the love of his life while he’s married to some woman back in New York.

“I-” Eddie chokes a little, looking down at his plate and refusing to meet his eyes. “I can’t.”

“Why?” He leans back, placing his hands on each side of his plate neatly, looking at Eddie from over the frame of his glasses.

“What?” Eddie’s head snaps up, the pinched expression is back.

“It’s a simple question, Eduardo. Why can’t you call her and tell her you love her?” He feels rude for asking but he needs Eddie to see. He needs him to realize that Richie knows him better than anyone else ever will because he’s been living a lie for twenty years without the Losers by his side.

“Come on you SNL reject, you’re being a fucking prick! Stop fucking pestering me with useless shit like this!” Eddie, back on the defensive, barks out heatedly.

“Wow, you faced a demon from outer space but you can’t tell your wife you love her? I knew she was a clown but good lord this takes the cake! Or is it the whipped cream pie? Hm.” He leans further back, tipping his chair and swaying, watching as the veins in Eddie’s forehead pop. “I’ll tell you what, if you can take my phone right now and call her and tell her you love her I’ll never make a joke at your mom’s expense ever again.”

“I highly doubt that.” Eddie snorts, trying to subtly kick his chair backwards with his leg. Good, he’s not pissed beyond belief yet, then.

“Jew Scout’s honour!” He places a hand on his heart dramatically and bats his eyelashes at the shorter.

Eddie looks at the phone like he’s staring down a venomous snake or a vagina with teeth. Richie watches him take it, thumb it open and then pull up the dialler. He watches as Eddie types in the number slowly and then pauses.

After the most intense thirty seconds of Richie’s life, Eddie drops the phone onto the table like he’d been burned.

“I can’t do it.” Eddie chokes out and Richie nods to himself.

“I know.” He says simply and checks their check, drops the necessary money onto the table and stands up. “Come on.” He picks up his phone from the table and heads for the door. 

He doesn’t wait to see if Eddie’s following. Because sure, Richie pushes and prods, but he knows Eddie’s boundaries pretty well so he knows when enough’s enough. He waits in the car for a couple of minutes before Eddie slides into the passenger seat.

He grips the steering wheel, waiting for something, _anything._ He refuses to crack first so he waits like he always does. _Much good this waiting’s done him._

“I married my mother.” Eddie says in a hushed voice and Richie fights back a choked off cough.

Oh, now _that’s_ proper joke material. If only he was up to it.

“She’s controlling, she’s a bitch, she’s got me on a fucking leash and I hate it. It didn’t bother me until I came back here. Because I forgot my mother. But now – things are different, you’re right. That’s not who I am. I know I’m still a fucking coward but I’d never just sit back and let her do this to me if I _remembered_. But I didn’t, so I fell back into it. I even had that fucking inhaler and everything, God.” Eddie smacks his hand against the car’s dashboard and Richie winces at the sudden harsh noise.

“She’s not – she’s not a bad person. She’s possessive and unaware of her actions but she’s not _evil_, not like mom was. It still fucking sucks, though. So no, I’ve been avoiding her calls and texts since I got here and I – I’m not going to call her and tell her I love her.” Eddie finishes with a heaving breath and Richie is impressed. Then again, he’s _always_ impressed by anything Eddie does.

“Okay,” He says instead of making a joke because now, out of all the times, he’s worried about being _appropriate._

“_Okay? _That’s it? No joke? No jab? No mocking remark? Maybe you’re the one who’s changed the most, in the end.” Eddie bites out somewhat ruefully.

He shrugs. “I hide behind humour, Eds, but even I know when it’s better to say nothing at all.” It feels odd to admit his shortcomings but it also feels like a relief because he’s doing so to Eddie who’s always spilled all his secrets to Richie. “I don’t – I’m not going to make a _your mom_ joke because this is a serious situation and I don’t care about that. The only important thing right now is that you’re not happy – with her.” He takes a deep breath and thinks about how to continue from here without making himself obvious.

“And I would like to help you with that, I really would, but I think this is something you have to do on your own. Whatever you decide come tomorrow, I’ll support you.” He decides that’s what he wants to say because it’s the least damning option out of the twenty he’d had prepared.

“That’s – that’s actually really mature of you, Rich.” Finally, like the sun breaking the horizon, Eddie smiles at him and the weight lifts off of Richie’s shoulders.

“Don’t act so surprised! I resent your shock! I can be mature all I want!” He sticks his tongue out at Eddie and the shorter bats at him with a laugh.

He finally starts the car once they’ve stopped laughing and heads back to the Town House, hoping that they’ll catch the others before Eddie has to leave.

Once they’re parked in front of the house and the radio’s turned off, they fall back into silence. He looks at Eddie, his strong profile and prominent brow, and thinks about all the missed opportunities and the future he will never have.

“I don’t want to go back.” Eddie speaks first, just like last time. “I don’t want to go to New York but I will. Because it’s all I have and it’s what I know.”

_No, you have me, come home with me –_ are the words that desperately want to leave his mouth but he refuses to let them escape. Instead he keeps his trap shut and nods in acknowledgement.

“My door’s always open, Eds, in case you wanna drop by for a vacation or something.” He keeps it casual, wording it like he’s just inviting a friend over to dinner and not like he wants to take Eddie to California with him and keep him there.

“Thank you, Rich.” Eddie meets his eyes this time and even in the darkness of the car he can tell that they’re shining and filled with tears.

“What are best friends for, yeah?” He smiles and he means it, he does, he just wishes that they were more. Oh well, what can a man do except pine for his best friend endlessly and hope for the best?

* * *

In the morning they say goodbye to Eddie who latches on to each and every hug like he’ll never see them again. He grips Richie the tightest and they stand there while the others watch.

“Call me tomorrow, dickface.” Eddie grumbles into the material of his shirt somewhere around his collarbone and Richie sniffles, blinking tears away.

“Of course, Spaghetti, you know I can’t go a day without hearing your lovely voice.” He shoots back easily, earning himself a round of timid chuckles from everyone around.

“Get him there safe, Billy Boy.” He releases Eddie and smacks a hand onto Bill’s shoulder.

“What about my s-safety, Rich? I got a flight to catch, too!” Bill checks him with his shoulder and Richie grunts as the push meets a sensitive bruise somewhere on his ribs.

“Aw, Bill, don’t be jealous. You know Eddie’s my favourite, that’s just how it is.” He croons and pinches the shorter’s cheek.

“Fuck off, Tozier.” Bill says half-heartedly, blue eyes still tender.

“I thought _I_ was your favourite!” Beverly protests, trying her hardest to pull Richie into a headlock and failing miserably on account of being shorter.

“Aw, Bev, you don’t count! You’re a category all on your own!” He amends by placing a kiss on top of her fiery head and she settles down. He – he really admires her. Not only has she come out on top of everything life’s thrown at her but she’s also had the guts to get the guy in the end. What a legend.

“Alright, final goodbyes. We gotta make it to the airport.” Bill announces and claps his hands together.

Eddie looks so reluctant to leave and Richie is _this_ close to just begging him to stay but. But that wouldn’t be fair. He can’t do that to Eddie. The other man deserves to decide what he thinks is best and no matter what Richie’s pining heart says, he’s not going to ruin Eddie’s chance at having a normal life and trying to make things work even after this whole Derry fiasco.

“Quite the drive to Portland, do be careful, yeah?” Mike interjects and Bill nods his head frantically before surging up for a final hug. They all join in the end and the group shuffles together towards Bill’s rental in unison.

Ben makes the two of them promise to call once they’re back home and safe and Beverly adds them all to a group chat so that they can text while on the plane. They wave the two off and Richie feels a familiar hollowness in the pit of his stomach opening up again.

“They’ll be okay, Rich.” Beverly places a hand between his shoulder blades and rubs at his back slowly.

“I know. I know, it’s just – we finally all came together and now we’re...” He trails off, waves a hand around awkwardly, feeling too tall for his own skin.

As if sensing that something’s off about Richie and that he needs a shoulder to cry on, Beverly turns to Mike and Ben with a raised eyebrow. “We’ll be right with you, maybe we could play cards or just order some lunch. Go see if they have any takeout menus at the front desk.” And she probably _can_ sense that Richie’s very close to bursting at the seams.

He hadn’t slept well last night, this morning not even the coffee he gulped down helped with coming to his senses and he can barely keep his breakfast down. He doesn’t know if it’s the belated shock, the anxiety of going back to Los Angeles or the fact that Eddie was leaving again. He also missed sleeping next to Eddie. Because the first night with the other there, he knew he could just open his eyes and all the nightmares would pale because Eddie was right there next to him. But the other man had gone back to his own room last night because – well, that’s what was expected of him, right? Eddie was always good at that.

“He was always good at doing what was expected of him, you know.” He says once Mike and Ben are back inside the house.

“It’s always held him back.” Beverly confirms and then turns to face him fully. “You on the other hand, you never did what was expected of _you_. So, why are you doing so now?”

“Nobody’s expecting anything from me, Bev, I made sure of that.” He snorts derisively.

“No, the rest of us have stopped expecting you to follow the norm a long time ago. But you still think that’s what Eddie expects from you. So you fall back into old behaviours and denial as easily as breathing.” She crosses her arms over her chest and his throat goes dry at the words.

He opens his mouth and closes it like a fish out of water. “He doesn’t expect anything from me.” He chokes out after an embarrassing amount of gaping at her silently.

“He doesn’t, you’re right. But you _think_ he does. So you go back to your teasing, your mocking and your poking and prodding. Because it’s what he knows and you’d do anything to make him comfortable. But what about _you,_ Richie? You’re not happy, I can see that. But you settle because you want to make him feel at ease.”

Last he remembers, Beverly didn’t have a degree in psychology. Was he just that transparent? Was it written all over his face? Was he broadcasting his thoughts and feelings all along? Wow, embarrassing _and_ pathetic!

“Stop looking like I kicked you in the balls, Richie.” She huffs, obviously irritated.

“Well, you might as well have! Let a man have his pride! I can’t have you digging around inside my head like this, that’s just embarrassing!” He whines, slumping down against his car in the parking lot. He really didn’t have to fly it over here with him, what a fucking hassle.

“Look, Rich, all I’m saying is that you need to stop being hard on yourself and for once in your life go after what _you_ want even if it might inconvenience someone else.” Beverly approaches him slowly like she might spook him and places a hand on his cheek. “You’re a great guy Richie, anyone would be happy to be with you and if Eddie doesn’t see that – which I doubt – then he’s not worth your time. And I know it sounds harsh but – but then you can at least know and go back to being friends. Knowing something is half the battle or whatever.”

“This is mortifying,” He presses his lips together in a tight line. “I’m a grown man, I shouldn’t be such a fucking coward.”

She smiles at him, “You’re not a coward, Tozier, you’re just a little bit emotionally repressed.”

“Gee, thanks, Bev. You sure do know how to make a guy feel special, Ben’s a lucky man!” He pulls her in for a hug and she chuckles as he clings to her.

“So, what are you gonna do?” She asks after wiggling out of his hold.

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll think about it some more. He said – he said he doesn’t want to go back to New York but that it’s what he’ll do anyway. I guess I’ll see if he wants to get out of there after all and maybe offer him a place to stay, a change of scenery.” He shrugs and shoves his hands inside his pockets to stop them from flailing around.

“Baby steps, Richie, baby steps.” She smiles and tugs on his arm, pulling him back inside the Town House.

* * *

He calls Eddie first thing in the morning – at around 11, okay, he’s not an animal he doesn’t get up at asscrack of dawn.

The line rings as he watches Bev and Ben haul their bags downstairs. It rings and it rings and Richie’s about to hang up and try again later when there’s a click and Eddie’s grumbled _hello. _

_“_Morning, Eds.” He chirps, biting his lip to stop the grin from spreading.

“_Who is this?_” The other grumbles and Richie’s heart stops._ Oh, no, oh God no._

_“_It’s me, Eds.” He bites out, a lump in his throat as he tries to speak – one that Beverly immediately notices and rushes over to him.

“_Me – oh, for fuck’s sake, Richie, you fucker, I don’t have your fucking number! You woke me up, bitch.” _Eddie, finally realizing who it is, grunts out and a whole load of rocks falls off Richie’s shoulders.

“Jesus! You little shitstain! You scared the piss out of me! What do you mean _who is this!?_ Got anymore handsome childhood friends that call you _Eds?_ You dickhead!” He rants angrily because that was probably the third scariest thing that’s ever happened to him. And that’s saying something.

_“Calm the fuck down, Richie, fuck’s sake. I’m sorry okay, I – I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry.” _Eddie hushes him quickly, voice gentle and Richie allows himself to take a deep breath.

“You didn’t text the group chat, bitch!” Beverly crowds against him and yells at the phone – and Richie’s ear.

Eddie huffs out a laugh that doesn’t sound promising. “_Yeah, I – Myra confiscated my phone and by the time I got it back I was too tired to text. I’m sorry, but I did get back safe. Now, _staying_ safe is a different thing entirely.” _

_“Eddie,_” Beverly hisses quietly. “You’re a grown man, how can she confiscate your phone?”

“_That’s what I said too, and then we fought about it and now she’s at her mother’s place. Hope she remains there for the foreseeable future.” _Eddie sighs heavily and Richie really wants to give him a hug.

Beverly looks at him then, eyes wide and _intent_ and Richie’s not sure he likes the intention in them. She pokes him in the chest with a spindly finger and then nods to the phone, making a heart with her hands.

He bats her away and struggles to escape her grabby hands. “Listen, Eds, if you need a – you know – no, stop Bev – Bev! No!”

She snatches his phone away and starts speed walking away from him. She’s surprisingly fast for someone so short and he has to run to catch up with her. Worse yet, he can’t hear what she’s saying to Eddie – probably in his name. This is a disaster.

“Oh, Eddie, sweetie I’ll text you the e-mail, it’s fine. No, he doesn’t mind. He went to help Ben and Mike with something, want me to call him back? Oh, yeah, I’ll let him know! Bye, Eddie!” Beverly ducks from his outstretched hands and with a twirl escapes him again. He watches her end the call and a cold sweat washes over him at the glint in her eyes.

“What. Did. You do.” He breathes out, feeling unreasonably nervous about this. Surely she wouldn’t have done anything damning? Surely she wouldn’t have outed him like this?

“I told him I’d send him my lawyer’s email and number in case he was thinking about that divorce seriously.” She hands him back his phone, served with a smile.

“Divorce?” He looks down at the device, gripping it firmly and then startling to meet her eyes once again.

“Yes, Rich, _divorce_.” She rolls her eyes. “Of course he’s getting a divorce, the woman’s a demon! You didn’t seriously expect him to stick around, did you? The only reason he tolerated his mom past the age of 14 is because he had to live under her roof. Now that he’s aged like fine wine, he doesn’t have to do that anymore.” Beverly pats him on the cheek condescendingly. “I also told him you’d let him live with you until he settles into a new job when he inevitably moves out.”

“Bev!” He whines, cheeks heating up. “What the fuck, Bev!?”

“What? You _don’t_ want him to move in with you?” She raises one of her judgemental eyebrows at him, _a signature move – Tozier might be going down in round 1, ladies and gents!_

_“_Of course I do but I can’t just, like, jump him all of a sudden! And just when he’d gotten divorced, too!”

_Tozier strikes back, his feet are fast but Marsh has a mean left hook, everybody!_

“So you’re saying I _shouldn’t_ take my chance with Ben just because I’m in the process of divorcing my piece of shit husband?”

_Ooh, the left uppercut! Tozier. Is. Down. The man in the stripes has started the countdown, will the fat lady sing?!_

“No. Fuck, Bev, you know that’s not what I meant. That was a below the belt blow.” He groans, rolling his eyes at her. “I just mean that – he doesn’t even _want _anything with me in the first place. He hates how much of a slob I am and he’ll hate living in my mess.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Richie. He loves you, literally everyone knows this aside from you.” Beverly scoffs, smacking him on the forehead with an open palm.

“It’s true!” Ben chirps as he passes by them, carrying the last of his luggage out, pressing a kiss to Bev’s cheek.

It occurs to him that they might not have been as subtle or quiet as he would have liked and that now at least both Mike and Ben know about his predicament. Well, they don’t look surprised so that’s rude. But he can’t really blame them. Not after the way he’d been acting ever since they came back.

“Whatever, just – go be happy and disgustingly cute together. Leave me to stew in this until eventually I snap and either move to Europe to live in a cottage somewhere Switzerland or I just start yelling my emotions out.” He throws his hands up, letting it go for now but not forgetting.

* * *

So he goes back to his home in Los Angeles, goes back to his beach house and fires his writing team as soon as he gets in contact with his manager. Amy chews him out, of course, but he promises her a brand new show that she can pitch to Netflix as his comeback after he bombed the last time. It hasn’t really been long and gifs of him blanking out on stage still circle the internet but by the time he finishes writing the new show, it will probably have been about a month. And for someone who’s used to making regular appearances and doing shows once a week, that’s a long hiatus.

About a week in he notices that the house is dusty so he hires a cleaning service to attend to it while he lounges on the beach, letting the sun warm his skin. He thinks about the group chat and how everyone is tentatively keeping in touch, updating each other on everything that’s happening. He thinks about Eddie and his wife that he’s beefing with and about how _brave_ the other is.

He only lets himself think about these things when he’s not working on new material. Which is to say, not that often.

He hates that he had forgotten how fun writing his own material could be. Hates that he’d forgotten how good and peaceful his neighbourhood is and how much he loves the quirky little coffee shop a couple of streets from the beach. They’d gotten a new barista last week and he – well, he’s certainly _bizarre_. Richie lives for the people around LA. He lives for gathering inspiration from his surroundings and he’d fucking forgotten that. So he writes a shitty little side bit for the weird barista in the Ed Hardy shirt as well. He’ll probably never do it on stage but he writes it for himself and that’s a positive change.

Two weeks in, he takes his flashy car and drives it to a dealership. He sells it and buys a Tesla instead. Save the planet and all that. He does it mainly because he doesn’t need any part of Derry with him and his car’s been tainted enough by the Derry air. _Derriere, ha._

The only things from Derry he needs by his side are his friends. So he keeps texting them, Skyping with Bev and Ben and occasionally calling up Mike to see where he is. Bill is still a little busy for regularly scheduled _Trashmouth Tozier Talks_ (rants) but he makes an effort to text them all in the evenings. And he – well, he calls Eddie, too, and Eddie calls him as well. But the talks are always short and clipped because Eddie’s always in a hurry or the time zones are too complicated to work around. It feels strained. But maybe that’s just Richie. Maybe he’s reading too much into things like usual.

It can’t be easy for Eddie, divorcing his wife after so many years spent together. It’s really not a wonder he’s so prickly about it. Richie hopes they settle it sooner rather than later but Myra’s refusing to sign the papers and Eddie’s at his wit’s end.

By the end of week three at home, he’s finished his show and sent it to his manager for revision, he’s made friends with the odd barista and his boyfriend and managed to establish a proper sleeping schedule for himself. Sure enough, he’s starting to feel like a proper adult for the first time in what feels like entirely too long. The only thing he’s missing is a committed relationship and a dog.

“I should get a dog,” He says to himself as he stands on the beach with a cup of coffee in his hands. Today he’d decided to make his own for a change and now he’s just – enjoying the quietness of the water, the calm that the repetitive motions bring.

“What kind?”

“MOTHERFUCKER!” He screams, launching his mug into the air and backpedalling away from the sudden voice that had interrupted his quiet morning. He ends up on his ass in the sand, because of course he does. But when he looks up he sees Eddie staring down at him with a bewildered expression on his face that is slowly turning smug.

“You little prick! What are you doing here?” He exclaims, indignant, rushing to his feet and throwing sand up everywhere. “Why do you have a moustache and a poor excuse for a beard?! Why did you sneak up on me!”

“What do you mean what am I doing here? Haven’t you read the group chat?” Eddie smacks his chest with the back of his hand.

“Fuck, I didn’t.” He groans. “I’ve been on a social media blackout for a week and I’ve been avoiding my phone in case my manager decides she hates the new show and promptly drops my ass.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Eddie eyes him warily.

“Neither does your weird fuckin' goatee!” He shoots back, petulant at being caught so unaware.

“Shut the fuck up, Tozier!” Eddie shoves him but Richie catches his hands by the wrists.

“Eds! You’re here!” He gloats, grinning brightly and without any of his usual reservations because Eddie’s here, with him, standing in his own little piece of paradise. He feels oddly elated.

Maybe it’s not that odd, though, maybe it makes sense. Because Eddie’s always been the thing missing from his life even when he didn’t know it.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m here.” Eddie says fondly, looking around the empty beach and eyeing the impressive house. “It’s – it’s nice here, quiet, pretty.”

Richie’s heart grows three sizes and he feels so _proud_ of everything he’s done so far because he’s managed to bring that wide-eyed look of wonder back to Eddie’s face. God, he was a fool in love. And maybe, just maybe, it was time to let the person of interest know, too.

“I thought you’d be living it up in the centre of LA or something, maybe the Hills.” Eddie mumbles, looking down where he’s still gently cradling the shorter’s wrists.

“Nah, too noisy even for me. Also, _the_ _Hills_? What am I? An aspiring twenty-something _youtuber?_ Please, Eds, I’m entirely too old for that.” He scoffs, thumbing at the soft skin on the inside of the wrists in his hold.

“What do I know, Rich.” Eddie shrugs. “You may still be a hit on YouTube if you tried hard enough.”

“With a mug like this? Doubtful.” He tugs the other closer and wants to – well he wants to _kiss_ Eddie but he’ll settle for a hug instead.

Eddie, however, refuses to budge. His eyes are serious as he looks up at Richie. “The divorce was finalized yesterday so I packed all my shit and took the first flight here. The driver in the cab tried to teach me some weird Slavic language and then tried to give me his daughter’s number in case I wanted to help her get citizenship. He didn’t even drop me off at the correct address, I had to walk a couple of streets with two of my suitcases trailing after me. I stopped for coffee at a shop nearby and the barista tried to sell me a ticket for some weird niche band called _SPICY's _venue_._ I said no, of course, he then proceeded to read me my entire future from the foam at the top of my latte. Somehow he knew I was looking for you and he had his boyfriend drive me here.” Eddie finishes, breathing in and out steadily and Richie can only stare at him in amazement.

“That – that was a lot of words.” He mumbles uncertainly.

“I’m not done yet.” Eddie cuts him off and takes another deep breath. “The flight here was awful and the airports are filthy. I have started going gray from the fucking stress of this month and I had to grow a moustache just so that I don’t shave my head on impulse. I’ve been going stir crazy but right now – it’s all gone. The moment I stepped foot here and saw your stupid fucking linen pants and your ridiculous fucking Hawaiian shirt, everything inside me seemed to calm down.”

Richie feels his heart jump into his throat before it drops down into the soles of his feet. And he’s still stupidly holding on to Eddie’s wrists. But he knows this feeling that Eddie’s talking about. He knows and he feels it now, too. Like the final piece of the puzzle slotting into place.

“I don’t know why. I mean, I _think_ I know why but – but it’s stupid. This shit is stupid and these feelings are dumb and like something out of a Hallmark movie.” Eddie grumbles, looking out into the bay.

_Feelings,_ Richie’s brain catches up, _time to start shouting from the rooftops. _

_“_I love you.” He breathes out and Eddie’s eyes snap back to him, wide and alarmed.

“I fucking suck so bad for waiting so long to say this but, Eddie Kaspbrak, I fucking love you. I have, since fucking forever and I never got to tell you because I’m _emotionally repressed_ or whatever Bev’s said. But now I’m here, old and possibly balding – the jury’s still out – and telling you, finally, honestly.” His eyes are watering, he’s going to start crying any minute now, he knows this. But – it’s finally out there, he’s gone and did it and now Eddie’s looking at him like he’s insane again.

“Huh.” He bites out, waiting for Eddie to respond. “Um? _Sike_?”

Eddie’s eyes narrow and suddenly he’s angry. _Uh-oh._ “Richie Tozier! You piece of garbage! You dumpster fire!” The shorter man tugs out of his hold finally and then rushes forward, toppling them both into the warm sand.

“Not what I expected to hear but – ow – fine!” He bats Eddie’s hands away as they try smacking him in the face, chest and stomach. “Calm down, Eds, you’re being a child!”

“_I’m_ being a child?!” Eddie shrieks comically and Richie winces at the volume. One of Eddie’s knees connects with his kidney in their tussle and he groans, rolling onto his back with the shorter straddling his waist.

“Years, Trashmouth! Years lost because you were being a bitch!” Eddie growls at him – honest to god, growls.

“_ME?!_” He yells back, indignant as the blame shifts entirely onto his shoulders. “Why didn’t _you_ say anything?!”

“I fucking did!” Eddie screams and then falls silent, eyes tearing up and Richie wishes he didn’t have his glasses on so that he didn’t have to see the sorrow there.

“When?” He whispers, “I don’t – I don’t remember.”

“Prom, fuckface. I tried telling you, I-" Eddie slumps down a little, elbows locking in place to keep his arms straight.

“Eds, I – I don’t know what...” He trails off, puzzled as the memory seems to escape him.

“You moved out of Derry three days later because you’d been accepted at some music festival thing with your stupid band. And I’d never heard from you again after that.” Eddie shrugs but his head’s still hung between his shoulders. “I don’t even know the fucking name anymore, or the two other guys in it.”

“Seth and Peter.” He whispers and then groans. Oh God. _Oh God. “_Oh ,God.”

The memory starts to slowly trickle in, detail by tiny detail. The tacky decoration’s of the school’s gym. The seniors dancing together properly one moment and then becoming a writhing mass once they’d gotten their hands on the spiked punch. Seth spiking the punch. Richie getting a blowie under the bleachers with the rest of the people drunk and dancing less than a few feet away.

Eddie – Eddie coming to look for him, Eddie seeing him and Seth and _oh God._ Eddie had seen, panicked and ran out of the gym, leaving his Good Christian Girl date alone at their table. And Richie couldn’t ever leave well enough alone. Eddie wouldn’t have told anyone but Richie had been so sure that by morning everyone would know, so he’d pried Seth’s mouth off him and rushed after Eddie.

The memory blurs again, Richie was probably high and drunk at the time. But as it picks back up he can see himself pinning Eddie to the wall by the lapels of his nice tux.

“_You better forget you ever saw a thing, Kaspbrak.” _He’d growled in a voice that was too angry to belong to him.

“_I’m – I’m not gonna tell anyone, Rich. I – it’d be a little hypocritical of me, you know.”_ The shorter had said and Richie, to his mortification now, had recoiled violently.

“_You have a girlfriend.”_ He’d pointed out, plain and simple and _stupid_.

“_Yeah, and she – well, not important. Do you love him?”_ Eddie had looked to the side and Richie had thought that, _no, I’m not like that, I’m not bent. Seth and I are blowing off steam, we’re not-_

_“I’m not a fucking faggot, Kaspbrak. A hole’s a hole and that’s it,”_ He’d pushed the other away and stormed off, not looking back to see if Eddie was sliding down the wall in tears or not.

Why? Why had he been so fucking angry? Why had he been so bitter about everything? Why couldn’t he have just kept his mouth shut and been a better friend to them all. No, he’d let his own self-hatred consume him and he hadn’t even... now that he’s older, it’s not like that. Now that he’s older he can admit it to himself because it’s a different time. The 80s really did fucking suck, huh?

He realizes he’s crying when Eddie tugs his glasses off and wipes off the hot tears sliding down the side of his face.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers out, closing his eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry, Eds, I don’t know what I was thinking. I was so angry at everything, I didn’t know how to handle it. Derry fucked me up, Eds, I’m so fucking sorry.” He stutters out through the tears, hoping against all hope, that Eddie will find it in him to forgive.

“Rich, Richie.” Eddie hushes back. “It’s okay, Rich. You were a kid, we were all just stupid teens flooded with hormones. God, puberty sucked ass.”

He chokes out a laugh, “Yeah, man, it really did. And _It_, Pennywise, he – that was my biggest fear, Eds. He’d gotten in my head and I _hated_ it, all of it. I’m so sorry.”

God, he doesn’t deserve Eddie. Doesn’t deserve this angel that’s hugging him here surrounded by sand and the sounds of the ocean. Eddie, who is too forgiving for his own good. Eddie who’s looking at him with affection in his eyes, palms on his cheeks.

“I love you, Rich.” Eddie says, as easy as breathing. “I’m sorry we were both too chicken shit to admit it when it was time.”

“No time like the present.” He grins up at him.

“You gonna kiss me or are you gonna keep talking shit?” Eddie leans down closer yet, close enough that they’re sharing breaths.

“You want to kiss my _trashtalking_ mouth? Wow, how the mighty have fallen. You know I kissed your mom with this-” His words get cut off by a pair of soft lips meeting his own.

He closes his eyes and enjoys the feeling. Their first kiss, the only kiss that matters. He can’t fucking stop smiling and Eddie has to smack his cheek to get him to calm down. His arms wind around the other’s waist and Eddie melts down into him, breaking the kiss in order to breathe.

The shorter nuzzles his neck, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “I like it here.” Eddie says serenely and Richie hums.

“I knew you would. Mostly because I’m here but-”

“Fuck off, Tozier.” Eddie groans, pinching his sides and chuckling when Richie whines.

Undeterred, he hugs Eddie closer to his chest and rolls them over. He stares down at the soulful eyes and feels nothing but elation because now, he gets to have this. He gets to lean down and kiss Eddie senseless and despite all the years of self-torment about it in highschool, he’s not afraid anymore.

“You’re thinking too hard, Rich.” Eddie runs a hand down the side of his face and rests it at his neck, thumbing at his pulse point. Like he needs reassurance that this is real and honestly, Richie can relate.

“That’s not the only thing hard currently.” He can’t help but tease and he accompanies the words with a roll of his hips that has Eddie spluttering and blushing like crazy. He’s not, though, because he’s not a teenager anymore and it takes more than a sloppy kiss to get him going but it’s worth seeing the look on the other’s face.

“Go fuck yourself, Trashmouth!” Eddie tries to push him off feebly but he just laughs.

“Thought the point of any relationship is that I don’t have to?” He complains, feeling Eddie brush away sand from his shirt.

“I thought it was all about love and companionship?” Eddie snorts, twirling a strand of his hair between his fingers.

“Maybe, maybe not. Only one way to find out.” He leans down and presses a kiss to the other’s forehead. “Wanna be my boyfriend, Eds?”

“God, what are we, twelve?” Eddie giggles but then nods enthusiastically. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask since forever.”

“Well, guess that dreams do come true.” He grins again, god his cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

“You’re a nightmare, Tozier.” Eddie smiles back at him and this, right here, was worth everything they’ve been through.

“Well, when the Jewish Cupids get ya, you gotta settle down with someone nice, I suppose.”

And really, there’s nothing more to say. He’s speechless, completely caught in the moment and in Eddie’s eyes. He’s so incredibly lucky – he’s so incredibly grateful. And he’ll spend the rest of his days saying it, too.

“That was bad and you should feel bad.” Eddie smacks his cheek gently and he shakes his head.

“How can I feel bad when you’re here with me, huh?” He croons, nuzzling his nose against the shorter’s like they’re lovestruck teens.

“You’re gonna take every opportunity to be a cheesy bitch, aren’t you?”

“Oh, baby, I’ve got a lot of cheese built up inside me over the years. The dam’s finally flooding.”

“Oh, fuck off, Rich.”

“Yeah, fuck off you, too, Eds.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'd give you all my twitter but it's a mess of kpop mostly so here's my tumblr- marionettefthjm


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